Damon's Guilt
by Nightingalelynx
Summary: Damon sits and reflects in a moment of quiet. Though he's suffering under the weight that's called guilt, he can't stop doing what he does; he's got too much momentum. But he's still standing, because there's one thing left that he cares about. ONESHOT!


**Disclaimer: **This belongs to the CW channel and L.J. Smith, not me, sadly! This idea came to me while watching the newest episode of Vampire Diaries, so if you haven't watched it yet, this contains spoilers. Just to be clear ;) Enjoy! ~Nightingalelynx

**Summary: **Damon sits and reflects in a moment of quiet. He can't stand the weight that weighs on his shoulders, the burden that's called guilt. But he can't stop, he's got too much momentum. He's losing everything so he's taking more, desperately trying to hold on. But he keeps going, because there's still one thing he cares about. Elena.

**Pairing:** One-sided Damon and Elena; Damon x Elena x Stefan. I'm Team Both, by the way. ;)

**Damon's Guilt**

The vampire with the shock of sleek, a la mode styled jet black hair was lounging on his red patterned sofa in his extravagant living room, sipping from a cup of scotch.

Damon Salvatore hadn't had such a moment of calm to sit and think for a long time, most likely because he always made sure he had something to do. Working took his mind off the horrible things swirling about in the back of his mind.

But now his brother was released from Klaus' compulsion, was on their side and showing signs of humanity, which was the best they could have at the moment, and Klaus was not an immediate danger, and Rebekah was nice and quietly staked, his friends were nice and safe and Elena… well, she was finally safe, and that was all he cared about at the moment.

And there was nothing to do. Nothing to do but sit and think back to all the reckless decisions he made, rather blindly.

_I've heard about you, Klaus said once: the crazy, impulsive vampire in love with his brother's girl. _

Was that really his reputation? Did the world know that much about him? Was he not as mysterious as he thought he was? Apparently, yes.

I'm not crazy, Damon thought, rather miffed. Impulsive, fine, sure. In love with his brother's girl… ah, well. Back to the guilt it was.

Damon took a sip of scotch, and regarded the light colored drink ponderingly. A year ago, what filled the cup would have been some college girl's blood, or at the very least blood from the blood banks. This cup of scotch… is pure Elena's influence.

Elena, with her silky brown hair that cascaded down her slender shoulders; the girl with a heart as big as her smile. The girl who cared about everyone else before she cared about herself. Elena, who was the spitting image of the first girl he'd ever really loved; Katherine. Elena, who had proved herself worthy of his devotion time and time again. Elena, who was his brother's girl.

He felt like he was betraying his brother, the righteous boy who'd given up everything to save his life. Stefan, who had saved his life again and again, even after Damon spent 145 years tormenting him, making his life miserable. How did he repay him? By secretly loving the love of Stefan's life. By wishing, with all of his being, that Elena would be his someday.

It wasn't only Elena. It was Katherine Pierce, too, the sly, manipulative doppelganger who'd played with people's hearts even more often than Damon himself did. Katherine had loved Stefan, and only Stefan, but had toyed with Damon, stringing him along for a hell of a ride for 145 years.

Why was it that every girl that he'd ever really cared for, loved his brother instead? Why? What was so good about Stefan Salvatore that Damon didn't possess?

Damon did things blindly sometimes, he knew. Blinded by love, blinded by rage or jealousy, or even blinded by boredom. But he meant well, and always wanted to fix things afterwards. Stefan made mistakes, too. So why did people glare at Damon with those accusing, suspicious eyes after he did something wrong, and coo at Stefan to console him after he made a mistake?

Damon had only two friends, really, and that was Alaric and Elena. Elena, who was a forbidden flower, protected in the walls of his brother's garden. So Alaric, the guy who had trusted Damon and had bothered to get through his walls, was his only real friend.

That was gone now, too. Stupid mistake, Damon thought, berating himself. Stupid, so stupid. He'd killed Alaric because he was in his way. He could have pushed him aside, he could have argued, but he didn't. He didn't need to do it, but he did it anyway.

A little part of him whispered that he did it to prove to Elena that she didn't control him, that she couldn't just look at him pleadingly with those big, knowing brown eyes and he'd cave in and be a saint like his brother.

Damon snorted, and stretched his long legs. As if he could fool himself.

Damon had even begun to trust Alaric, to include him in Damon's short list of people he cared about. He'd begun to have fun, to feel a spark of welcome. Then, faster than Damon could say "sorry", 'Ric was gone, too.

But Damon didn't say sorry. He just didn't, simple as that.

_You look… wrecked, Elena had informed him bluntly that night. _He agreed heartily. He was wrecked, both inside and out.

No one cared about him, no one even liked him, except for those compelled college girls and pretty models. He'd killed them all, anyways, every last one of them.

He was a murderer, Damon realized suddenly. He was a ruthless murderer that took advantage of his powers as a vampire to kill, and kill, and kill…

Damon thought of all those lives he'd taken, all those futures he'd ruined, and he couldn't help but let out a delirious, mad chuckle. If only Giuseppe could see him now. His father would be disappointed, indeed.

Everything he did with his father was wrong. And everything Stefan did was right in their father's eyes. Why did it have to be that way? Some small, deeply buried part of Damon ached for his father's love and approval, like any child would.

Giuseppe is dead, Damon growled at himself. Dead and gone, never to be seen again, except maybe as a rotting skeleton.

And anyways, he'd stopped killing people unnecessarily now. Really killing, not killing people who wear a magic-ring-that-brings-people-back-to-life type of killing. Proof in this cup of scotch in his hands.

Damon put down the cup and stared out the window, into the black, starry, and meaningless scene before him. His right hand twisted the ring on his left around and around.

Why should he stop, though? He's certainly not getting anything back from changing his ways. In fact, he's losing everything. He lost Alaric, he's lost the trust of his brother, his so called allies detest him, and Elena… he hadn't lost Elena, at least.

Only because she was never his to lose.

This was depressing, Damon decided loftily. The vampire who pretended that he didn't care anymore downed his cup of scotch in one big gulp. I'll go do something else, Damon thought to himself, standing up and stretching that lean, long body.

The Grill was open tonight, so he concluded that he'd go there and check out the scene. The vampire was in a mood to party and forget all his worries. Grabbing his black leather jacket from its hook by the door, Damon stepped out into the chilly night.

Walking, just because he wanted to, he made his way to The Grill, where he knew it would be loud and boisterous as always. There, he'd take their strongest alcoholic drink and maybe flirt with a few girls. Who knew what he would do once he was drunk enough? He'd have fun for one night, and return to work later. Or maybe he'd just return to his old, comfortingly familiar lifestyle and turn off his humanity. It wasn't as if there was anything left that might motivate him not to act recklessly.

But there was one thing left, and Damon located her the moment he walked through the doors of The Grill, along with the blonde vampire Barbie and the Bennett witch.

Tumbling brown hair like a waterfall, a sweet, wafting scent that Damon would know anywhere. That playful, melodious giggle. There was one thing left that Damon still had left to care about, to be motivated by, and that was Elena Gilbert. Because then, Damon would have something to fight for, something to keep him from falling into insanity, or worse; inhumanity.

Sighing reproachfully, Damon Salvatore reluctantly left The Grill. Anything for Elena, he thought with a kind of fire he hadn't felt for a long, long time. Damon shook his handsome dark head because he knew; even if the choice is between me or her, I'll choose her in an undead heartbeat. Always.

**Please review, and let me know what you think! I'd really appreciate it! Thanks~ Nightingalelynx**


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